


bet you didn't think that i'd come back alive

by Sharkchimedes



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: "what if" of the contraxia scene from vol.2, Brief mentions of other characters - Freeform, Canon Typical Violence, Gen, Language, Not Canon Compliant, brief mentions of Ego being a jackass, copious amounts of headcanons, maybe not copious but yknow, some brief mentions of needles in regards to medical procedures that i definitely made up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 07:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18616033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharkchimedes/pseuds/Sharkchimedes
Summary: Yondu’s plan for hunting down Stakar had been a pretty simple one:1.Chase down the Starhawk, and2. Get Stakar to listen to him for five minutes.It hadn’t included two first mates going at each other like they had a grudge that could only be satisfied by death, and his first look at his former mentor being in the middle of it.But when has the universe ever gone with what he wanted?





	bet you didn't think that i'd come back alive

**Author's Note:**

> basically a "what if contraxia went differently" ficlet! enjoy~

 

Yondu had just about been at the good bit when his comm decides to start chirping.

 _“Uh, boss? You-”_ The transmissions fizzles, before coming back again, _“You’re gonna wanna get down here. Quick like.”_

Yondu gets no response when he comms back to demand _why_ , when he is _busy and_ everyone _knows it,_ but all he gets for it is static.

Yondu has to push the annoyance away before he wastes half the good crew that’s left. He can’t leave them alone for _five minutes_ these days, without someone doing something to make a new record for dumbassery. What’s more, most of the time nowadays, his supposedly veteran command team is in on it too.

It’s unfortunate that he needs them to hold the line, or he’d consider briging whoever he catches outside not dealing with whatever the fuck this is. Only about half the top brass stays outside at a time, sure, but that’s still a whole half who apparently can’t be assed to do anything.

A small bit of him acknowledges that _maybe_ he’s been a bit rough on the command lately, especially towards Kraglin in particular, who’s reverted years and years back to just answering him with “Yes cap’n” and the rare “No cap’n” and sleeping down in the block the rest of the bridge keeps quarters in with Tullk. So his (first) mate at least has likely wandered off as far as he can get from Yondu while they’re here on Contraxia.

Still doesn’t explain where Tullk and the rest are.

When he gets himself back into his leathers, adjusting his duster before he steps back into the cold, it’s a little surprising to not see either of the men he’d left at the door there. But then, one of them had been Half-Nut, so had he really thought they’d still be there? He snorts and heads down the stairs himself, glancing around the main yard.

Yondu’s expecting to see a couple of the men in a tussle over a bot, or maybe someone’s gone and offended an outsider, or one of the owners. Either would be annoying, but pretty usual, and with how his officers _have_ been acting he makes a note to ream them all out. He’s just gonna have to smooth something over, maybe with credits their accounts don’t really have, and then he can get back to pretending his son hasn’t run off and that his husband ain’t furious and that the whole clan is about to rattle apart at the seams.

What he _ain’t_ expecting to see is almost all the crew who’d gone planetside standing in a half circle with _navy blue leathers_ opposite, all yelling, but not at each other, but at something going on in the circle’s center.

He definitely ain’t expecting to see Martinex T’Naga, first mate of the _Starhawk_ and one of the seven (six, he reminds himself) Flames, standing in the middle, half in a crouch and looking furious like he’s didn’t know a Pluvian could _look_ , leathers looking like he’s gone through an engine block, clear and blue blood smeared on his crystalline skin and visible on the worn bits of his uniform.

Marty looks cracked up too, which is even stranger than seeing him look ready to snap his fingers and murder somebody, because he’s _seen_ Marty spitting furious before (once, just once), but never _damaged_ like that. Worst he’d ever seen happen to the Pluvian were a few concussion hits that knocked him down, and the offenders put through walls shortly after.

And he absolutely ain’t expecting to see someone in the dark maroon of his clan _lunge_ at the Pluvian, shooting into Yondu’s line of sight from behind the closer side of the circle of men as the perspective changes with his descent down the stairs. Whoever it is is lower to the ground than Marty, and has a knife, and clearly is going after the Pluvian with the intent to break _more_ of him, because the knife is up in a half braced grip and aimed directly at Marty’s nose.

It hits him in a sudden rush of clarity that the two fighting are Marty and _Kraglin_ , who Yondu hadn’t seen since before they’d set foot on Contraxia. Last he’d known about his mate, he was down with Tullk by the _Mollymauk_ the last watch before they’d hit Contraxia’s sector.

Kraglin hasn’t really been speaking to him all that much since they were on Xandar, and all what came after happened. Yondu can’t blame him, but it leaves him completely in the dark as to where _this_ came from, or how long it’d been simmering. Had the Hraxian been planning this since Yondu had told him to find the _Starhawk_ ’s trail, or had this just… happened?

By the time Marty responds to getting attacked by letting a gullet of flame out of the crystal of his right arm and _slamming_ it into Kraglin’s gut, Yondu is starting to think whatever he drank earlier has sent him right over the edge of mad.

The Hraxian hits the ground, but it doesn’t stop him from sucking in a breath and shoving himself back up to snarl at the Pluvian, who yanks a bit of singed leather the remnants of his sleeve- Marty’s burned his leathers up to his _shoulder_ , nearly- to toss it into the snow and snap back at him.

He catches sight of Tullk in the crowd, and not too far from him he recognizes Freskar, a bridge officer off the _Starhawk_. Both look like they’re yelling, but he can’t tell what between the distance and the dull roar of noises from other Ravagers. Whatever it is, he can tell from their faces that they’re trying to find a way to get the two first mates apart, and fast.

Neither can get close, though, and Kraglin and Martinex aren’t showing any signs of stopping, even as the snow beneath them gets churned into a pale blue slush. For a second, Yondu has the chilling thought that maybe they aren’t gonna stop until one of them can’t get back up to hit again.

The first thing Yondu hears clearly is a _roar_ from beyond the other side of the throng of Ravagers, and it sets his teeth on edge and the arrow sparking. He doesn’t need to get a glimpse to know Stakar is coming- the voice bellowing for _“T’Naga!”_ is one he could never forget, even after the decades of silence between them.

Martinex either can’t hear him, or is outright _ignoring_ the admiral, because rather than flinch and pull up to attention like Yondu expects, he just lunges forward and makes a move to crack his left side hard into Kraglin, and now Yondu thinks he can see _ice_ coating the leathers on that side.

When the _fuck_ had Marty stopped using blasters and started using _powers like a goddamn higher being?_

But Yondu’s got no time to try and puzzle out the sudden upgrade to the Pluvian’s abilities, because he’s gotta move, and _fast,_ because he can actually tell where the ravager admiral is now, because he can see the glow of his eyes and solar blades as they sprout the glowing shape of his wings. The navy-clad ravagers who’ve spotted him moving in their midst are peeling back and away- the glow of solar radiation is something that everyone on the _Starhawk_ fears like Yondu’s own arrow on the _Elector_ ’s.

There’s _no_ telling what Stakar will do when he reaches them, so Yondu does the only thing he can think of- shoves through his boys to try and get to them first.

He nearly gets hit by an arc of flame, and then does have a knife come skidding across the slick surface beneath what’s left of the snowfall to hit his boot.

The loss of a knife doesn’t stop Kraglin, who Yondu knows has enough to tear through a small ship, and Marty doesn’t seem to give a shit about that either.

Maybe they’ve gone past just knocking each other down and straight into outright _bloody death_.

The captain and admiral manage to make the inner circle at the same time, but Yondu’s plan to just get in between them- they’re too close for the arrow, and he knows he couldn’t rise it against either of them anyway- is thrown out because although Tullk and Freskar have seen them and have moved to assist however they can, both he and Stakar have miscalculated.

Because while the rest of the ravagers are cowed by Stakar’s wings and glowing eyes and blades, and Yondu’s own are wary enough to keep back, Martinex and Kraglin are still locked just on each other.

Yondu’s about to tell Tullk to help him get Kraglin’s knife and then get him back from Martinex, and Stakar’s obviously planning something similar with Freskar, and then that all goes up in actual smoke as Kraglin goes for Martinex again, in the same second that Stakar makes his move for Marty, who goes down in the slush with a yelp as Stakar hooks him by the arm-

And the knife buries itself into Stakar’s chest.

Everything goes _very_ quiet.  

Martinex near kicks Stakar in the leg as he twists to see who got him, and then freezes to stare.

Freskar’d gone to haul Marty back up again, but is just as frozen.

The only sound Yondu can hear is the faint creak of leathers as the crew around them watch.

It's got the same feel, same silence that having a grenade go off in a ship does, everyone blinking through the shock and ear ringing to see if something else is gonna explode and kill them all.

Kraglin seems just as shocked to see Stakar as the rest of them do, down from his full height and therefore at eye level of the admirals still glowing eyes.

No one moves for a good minute.

Then Stakar does, faster than Yondu can see, and when he's still again Kraglin is down on his ass in the snow and Stakar’s boot is on his chest, pressing just enough to keep him from getting out from under it.

 _“I would recommend, little wolf, that you stay down this time.”_ Stakar says in Hraxian, just loud enough for Yondu to catch, and Kraglin goes limp. He looks shaken, but there’s a set to his jaw that Yondu can tell isn’t _submission_ \- it’s vindication. Yondu must really be seeing things now, because that ain’t the typical look of a man who’s life is at an Ogord’s mercy.

Stakar looks at Martinex, who ducks his head and manages a sheepish salute.

Then the admiral looks at Yondu.

Yondu suddenly feels _very_ small, like he's the same fresh-out-of chains-rookie that Stakar had let follow him around and had taught everything he could. Stakar is good as family, a father to him- and one of the people in the universe with the most potential to hurt him.

Now, the admiral stares across the few feet between them, looking like a bird of prey perched on a wall. If Stakar wants him to feel like a mouse he's passing over, then it's sure fucking working.

A splatter of thick, golden blood hits the slush below in a splat, a trail leaving spots on Kraglin's dark red leathers. It was Stakar's, welling up and through the dark sweater he wore.

“Now, T'Naga.” Stakar takes his gaze off Yondu to glare down at Martinex again, still on the ground by his other foot, who winces. “What the _fuck_ is going on.”

\---

“Think we went too far?” Marty contemplates aloud, frowning up at the ceiling of the _Starhawk_ 's medbay.

Kraglin groans, rubbing at his chest. “Ask my fucking _fractured and burned ribs_ , you bastard.”

“You broke my hand! Literally, part of it _broke off!_ ”

“Fuck was I supposed to know that could happen! And since flarkin’ when can you even _burn_ people like that!” Kraglin snaps at him, pushing back a wince as chipped rows of teeth smack together.

“You _stabbed_ my boss! That wasn't part of the plan!” Martinex yells back.

On the other side of the medbay, on the audial end of the descent into bickering, Gimar shook xe head and clicked xer tongue. “Those two are too smart- and too _stupid_ for anybody's good, sir.”

“Don't I stars-damn know it.” Stakar grumbled, shifting on the bunk uncomfortably.

Yondu sat on another and watched, feeling every nerve in his body at being where he was.

He hadn't been in the _Starhawk's_ medbay since before he was even a captain. Or at least, not because of anything he'd done himself. Gimar, like Freskar, is another person who’s been aboard this ship longer than the Yondu Udonta they all know’s been alive. Yondu had not been one of xe’s favorites back in the day, a bad patient and stubborn.

Frequent, too.

And the last time he was on the ship itself, it had been in front of a tribunal of the flames that the older man across from him led.

So it was fair to say he was _flarking nervous to be here_ , but seeing as they clearly needed to have a talk and Stakar needed Kraglin’s knife outta his chest, and the two first mates needed medical attention, here they all were. He’d left Tullk in charge of the clan on the surface, but it’s gonna be a hell of a time going back to the ship after all this.

He knew that knife well- he'd given it to Kraglin, near four decades ago. Were Stakar not _not_ Xandarian, he'd have died in the blood-muddy slush miles below on Contraxia's surface. Stakar hadn't been wearing the chest plate he usually did, which was why it'd even managed to hit in him at all.

Maybe that was the most chilling part of it all. Imaging having come so far to see him to see him _die_ at the hands of-

Yondu shook it off, soothingly patting at the arrow. But Stakar weren't Xandarian, and he just needed it _out_ , and then they'd talk. And in the meantime, Yondu would think of what the fuck he was gonna do with his mate. With the way the two first mates are going at it now, and a data pad he’d pulled out of the _Mollymauk_ on the way up here- the 1st clan in Martinex’s _Diamond Dust_ and the exiles in Kraglin’s ship- it’s pretty clear they knew _mostly_ what they were getting into. There’s several months of on-off comms between them.

Yondu had been a little suspicious how easy it was for Kraglin to slice out the _Starhawk_ ’s moves from behind all the walls and movements of 99 other clans. He’s got the feeling now that he didn't have to slice at all, and that Martinex had been feeding the coordinates to him the whole time.

He’s distracted from that train of thoughts by Gimar, who is speaking again.

“I'm gonna get it out, and then we'll do an injection to the site, and you can take it from there, a'ight, sir?” Gimar is prepping a small syringe of ichor that looks near like the stuff still coming up out around the blade. Yondu’s never seen him do _any_ kind of medical for Stakar before, and it’s just curiosity-filling enough to temporarily distract from the solar storm of emotions he’s got.

Stakar doesn't answer more than a grunt and manages to peel himself out of his sweater, tossing it to the floor. His jacket, solar blades, gun holster and all, is up on the pillow of the bunk.

Yondu swallows- it's never any less unnerving to see scars on people you care about that you don't know were there, and Stakar's got quite the collection. He’d always thought of Stakar as untouchable- if not because of his own power, then because Aleta would kill anyone who took a chance at it.

This is proof some have, and have _succeeded_.

A minute later, and Gimar has carefully pulled the knife free and dumped it into an acid bath to get the goo off, picking up the syringe again. “Ready, sir?” At Stakar's nod, the medic sticks it home.

Yondu can see Stakar's jaw clench, and the tendons in his fists go taught on the edge of the metal bunk railing. He winces in sympathy- injections for him bring back other horrible memories, and he still has trouble listening to their own medic about when he needs them.

Then he stares as the hole stops oozing globs of congealed gold, starts glowing at the same time Stakar’s eyes do, and seals itself up. It takes near half a minute to do so and then the glow fades and Stakar reacts like he’s drunk and been shoved back, falling slightly onto the bunk before he shifts again.

“Hate that stuff.” The admiral grumbles. Gimar takes the syringe to chuck into the proper disposal unit, and moves off entirely, leaving the two men alone on their side of the medbay.

“Fuck was that?” Yondu stares at the faint line that marks what was, up till a minute ago, a fatal blow.

“Ain’t Xandarian, you know that.” Stakar rubs at the line himself, faintly scowling. “‘M Arcturian. We ain’t all… full up on the inside. More like jelly. Gimar calls it ichor.” His voice is all over the place, harder to understand than normal and veering into a language that ain’t entirely getting picked up by Yondu’s translator.

“You sound _drunk_ .” This day is getting weird and flarking _weirder_. Yondu feels like he could use another goddamn drink himself, but Freskar probably wouldn’t appreciate him taking a hop over to the mess.

“Stuff’s designed to jump start a star. Makes all the ichor… fix the shell bits. Hurts more than anything.” The admiral shakes his head and shuts his eyes, and Yondu stares at his hands as they lightly shake.

They clearly aren’t gonna be getting anywhere at the moment, so Yondu pulls out the arrow and starts turning it over, and a cloth to polish any marks off. When the knife is clean, he takes that out and cleans it too. Least he can do.  


30 minutes later, and Stakar has gotten more lucid, and they’re right back where they started on the whole “talking” bit.

Well, actually, that’s not true- last time he’d tried talking to Stakar the man had told him to get lost.

It seems like all the energy they’d have had for yelling at each other got drained out by Kraglin and Martinex igniting the ravager death match of the century, and by whatever the hell was in that needle Gimar stabbed Stakar with.

And now they’re just sitting there.

“So, uh. Sorry about my man stabbing you.“ Yondu turns his arrow over between his fingers, looking resolutely as far away from Stakar as possible. Right now, he’s staring at the biohazard bin.

“Sorry for apparently fracturing his ribs.” Stakar says. He’s watching Martinex and Kraglin on the other side of the medbay. It sounded like they’ve moved on from yelling to actually admiring the job they’d done on each other a while back. They sound pleased as rookies who schemed outta bog duty, and now they’re just chattering like they used to.

Yondu resisted the urge to rub his eyes. They were _idiots,_ but they were his idiot husband and his idiot brother, so he guessed he was stuck with them. At least, assuming Stakar wasn’t just waiting to tell them that he’d decided to just get rid of them altogether this time.

He knows that’s a little hysterical, but he _feels_ hysterical.

“So. You’ve been following us, and Marty obviously doesn’t see that as an entirely awful thing.” Stakar is the one to break their silence, turning to look at Yondu.

“Need to talk to you about… before.” Yondu lets his eyes drift back to the arrow, turning it over again.

“And I’ve told you, there ain’t anything more to be said about it.” Stakar’s voice goes harsh, and then he shocks Yondu by asking, “But I’m more interested in Xandar.”

“You know about that?” Yondu looks up, and Stakar is eyeing him curiously. It’s the least threatened he’s felt by the admiral all day. Maybe it’s because he still isn't wearing a shirt. He looks older, too- what was one still clinging to brown is now gone dark grey and silver.

“Unofficial reports cite the ravagers as offering an assist, when I know for a fact no clan’s been in Nova space for years now? We noticed.” Stakar chuckles, shaking his head. “You know us better than that, Udonta.”

“It was mostly the kid.” Yondu feels the sudden need to defend himself against having _helped_ the Nova. Hurts to admit it, but it wasn’t even mostly for that stupid rock. Not that he’s gonna tell Stakar that.

Problem is, he’s pretty sure Stakar’s already dug that little bit out on his own.

“Quill, right? Leading those Guardians now.” Stakar asks, humming. “Almost had a couple clans run into ‘em- had a panicked call from Mainframe a few weeks back about some of her server banks being near one of their exploits. Seem to end in explosions.”

“That sounds about right.” Peter was never a kid who did things by halves, and Kraglin teaching him to sneak and encouraging the act of knowing nothing to trick people hadn’t ever seemed to translate into _being less flashy_.

“Sounds like someone else I know.” Stakar huffs, pulling his jacket over to himself, straightening the metal flame pinned to it.

There’s _sentiment_ in that, and Yondu has to look away.

“Problem is, if _you’ve_ heard about him, then there’s someone else that has. Who’ll actually be lookin’, not just watching.” Yondu swallows. He _knows_ Stakar already knows Peter’s one of them, but actually admitting it is something else. He glances up to check if he’s about to get sucker punched or if Stakar is going to put space between them, but while the admiral isn’t thrilled at it, there’s something else there that isn’t anger.

“True.” Stakar nods when he knows Yondu’s watching him. “Gonna be plenty- probably gonna have Tivan after him at some point, if that grimy slug figures it out.”

“But he- _Ego_ -” The name tastes like ash, “Can’t get ‘em. Tivan’s an idiot, anyone who’s anyone knows that, but someone needs to do _something_ about Ego.”

“An’ you’d die for this kid, huh? You _do_ realize that the chances of you surviving an encounter with a celestial aren’t even high enough to estimate. It’s suicide.” Stakar says, tone dropping. There’s a look in his eyes that tells Yondu he’s doing more than putting it out as an ultimatum- the ravager admiral believes it. A shiver crawls up his spine, because Stakar is rarely wrong.

Kraglin and Marty have gone silent across the way, and Yondu can tell from the prickling on his neck that they’re both watching them.

And in a room with Stakar Ogord, the closest thing he’s got to a father, and Martinex, who’d treated him like a brother, and Kraglin, who’s been sticking up for him since they also were on the _Starhawk_ and made the arguable insane choice to marry him, he can’t lie.

“Yeah. I would.” It comes out a whisper, but he puts the emotion of it in his gaze and stares at Stakar. The Arcturian watches him, and then suddenly his enter countenance shifts.

“So lets go kill a celestial, then.” Stakar stands, shrugging on his jacket. Yondu would snort at how he looks like that, shirtless and swimming in leather and the blades hanging catty-corner if he wasn’t so busy being gobsmacked. “I don’t want any other immortal beings hanging about with illusions of taking on more turf, and I don’t want your kid getting caught up by him neither.”  
  
“You- you’re _serious?_ ” Yondu exclaims, nearly dropping his arrow as he stands.

“He’s being fully serious.” Kraglin says from twenty feet behind him, sitting up in the medical bunk. The Hraxian hisses, but his full attention is on Stakar, and he can _sense_ his mate’s energy spiking, even at the distance

“Fuck yeah, let’s go kill that bastard.” Martinex chirps from his own bunk.

Stakar shoots a look at Marty, who whoops something that doesn’t translate, before he turns to face Yondu, and gives him the first friendly expression he’s seen outta Stakar since the exile.

“So, Yondu, where do we find this celestial?”


End file.
